We support our Publishers and Content Creators. You can view this story on their website by CLICKING HERE.

At 20 years old, I learned that I was unexpectedly pregnant. I immediately thought that I couldn’t be a mother and be successful at the same time. My uncertainty was only compounded when the father of my child told me I should have an abortion and that he wanted nothing to do with me and our unborn child.

I had no idea how to be a mother, so the easiest route was to follow his wishes. I believed the cultural lie that in order to succeed in life, I would need to have an abortion.

I scheduled the appointment at a local abortion facility, despite having no idea what it would entail.

I walked into the abortion clinic and saw only a pale, cold waiting room with several women who were crying. No one was there to greet me, no counselors held the crying girls, and no love seemed to be found in the room. Immediately I felt as though I didn’t belong there.

I filled out the paperwork and was ushered back to a small room for an ultrasound. I never once looked at the screen. The voice in my head told me to follow the necessary steps — paperwork, ultrasound, payment, abortion. But my heart told me that those same steps would lead to more hurt, pain, and regret than I could ever imagine.

I left the clinic with unanswered questions, but I was still determined to return two weeks later for the procedure. Thankfully, during that two-week period, a friend of mine reached out and told me about a local pregnancy center where he was volunteering. It was called ThriVe. 

The day I was supposed to have my abortion, I found myself walking through the doors of ThriVe instead. I was four months pregnant when I was making my decision. 

Immediately I noticed a stark contrast between the center and the abortion facility. At ThriVe, women greeted me with genuine kindness and compassion. I was not just a number to them; I was a human being, and so was my child. I immediately felt at peace and knew that I belonged.

Entering through those doors that day was a breath of fresh air. It was the start of a new life.

During that first visit, I decided to have another ultrasound done. As I looked at the image on the screen, I was overcome with emotion, and I decided that I did not want to have an abortion. This was my baby, and I had to keep her. While I knew that I would work to be the best mother possible, I also knew that I would need support in order to parent my child. The women at the center immediately committed to help both me and my baby. 

From that moment on, I was showered with more love and support than I ever thought possible. I was given everything a new mom would need, including diapers, wipes, clothes, and more. Still to this day, I have never had to buy a box of Pampers because the center supplied them for me.

It wasn’t just the physical items that made a difference though. The parenting classes they offered allowed me to enter my new role as a mother prepared, educated, and confident.

ThriVe even continued supporting me and loving me when I gave birth to my beautiful daughter, Emily. Without God and ThriVe, Emily would not be here today.

From the moment I walked through ThriVe’s doors eleven years ago, I’ve never been alone in my motherhood journey. They have always been there for me and my daughter, and when I welcomed my son four years ago, their support continued. They are my village, my home.

Today, I can say with certainty that I am thriving, both as a woman and as a mother. My wonderful daughter was recently accepted at a private middle school in our area. She excels in math and art and is one of the brightest people I know.

I work full-time, and in my free time, I share my story so that other women who are facing an unexpected pregnancy know that help is available. I’ve told friends and family about the resources I received at my local pregnancy center, and many of them are now experiencing the same love and support that was given to me in their own parenting journey.

Kyla Smith is a mom who lives and works in Missouri. Smith is not the author’s real last name, which has been withheld to protect her children from pro-abortion extremists.